


tumblr ficlets

by flintsjohn



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Tumblr Prompts, pirates in love - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintsjohn/pseuds/flintsjohn
Summary: A collection of my tumblr ficlets, written during/after s4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> more details in each chapter's summary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverflint fluff post s4, mentioned silvermadi.

“Tell me again.” Silver whispered in the skin of Flint’s neck, following his words with a kiss.

“About what?” Flint whispered back, his voice low and rough.

“About your life in London.” Silver propped himself up on his elbow, his head resting lightly on his closed fist. The hint of a smile was playing on his lips, his face almost completely obscured by the long locks of hair cascading around it.

Flint rolled onto his side to watch his partner in the eyes.

“Well, I was happy then.” He murmured, like it was a secret.

Silver frowned, his free hand coming to caress his lover’s cheek, “Are you not happy now?”

A sad smile appeared on Flint’s lips at that, and he brought Silver’s face close to his to kiss him gently.

“I am happy in this moment, John. But nothing is as it was then.” Flint was now resting his forehead against Silver’s, his eyes closed, and that was how he felt the little nod from the other man.

“I sometimes think of how you could have been then. Did you have a clean-shaven face? Was your hair long like it was fashion?” Silver’s hands ran on his partner’s shaved head lightly.

“I did, and it was. Are those the only things you think about? My looks?” Flint asked with an amused tone to his voice.

“Do not be ridiculous, James. I think about your behaviour, too. How gentlemanly it might have been. Much more than it is now, I believe.” At this, Flint pushed him until he rolled onto his back again, settling on top of him but careful of Silver’s leg.

“Is that so?” He smiled at his lover, who nodded with a matching grin.

“I also think about how happy you must have been with them. I find myself thinking that I will never quite compare.”

“Stop.” Both of Flint’s hands came up to cup Silver’s face, his head bowing to catch the other male’s eyes. “It’s true, I was happy with them. We won a war in their names. But I do not like you questioning yourself, for I have grown quite fond of you, Mr Silver.”

“Have you, now, Captain?” Silver’s smile returned, even wider than it was before.

“You know I have, John. You are the only person who truly understands me. And I must admit, it is becoming harder by the day to wait for you when you are away.” Flint finally moved from above his lover, settling at his side with a deep sigh. “You might think you cannot compare, but I am the one that has to share you now.”

Silver’s face was scrunched in a frown, his arm coming to rest around Flint’s shoulders to hold him tightly.

“Is this jealousy I hear in your tone?” His fingers were moving on Flint’s skin with the utmost care, caressing each freckle, while he waited for an answer.

“Jealous of a place, not a person. You know how much I would like for both you and Madi to come here to stay.”

“James-”

“No, let me speak. I know we had agreed on a plan, I know it was the best way to win the war and escape repercussions at the same time. But I have realized that the quiet life I have been desiring from the start is not enough for me, not anymore. Not without you.”

Silver sighed, his arm holding Flint even tighter. He still could not believe how much their lives had changed from the moment they met, he still found himself amazed by how strongly he felt for this man.  
“I miss you, too, when I am gone. I will talk to Madi, I promise you I will.”

Flint allowed himself to smile the smallest of smiles, his fingers ghosting over Silver’s chest, “That’s all I ask.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverflint fluff, set some time after s4 had ended.  
> Inspired by @iwtv2007‘s tags on [this](http://iwtv2007.tumblr.com/post/157873650848/crucifythenburn-one-good-leg-one-crutch-soft) post.

Silver sunk onto the bed, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and his eyes falling shut quickly.

 _Finally_ , he thought. The old wooden crutch laid forgotten next to him. He was so close to falling asleep, but soft steps entering the room made him sigh again. 

“John,” a familiar voice called, but he still did not open his eyes. “How was the raid? I assume that's why you are here and not with Madi,” the voice went on.

With a groan, Silver finally opened his eyes and stared at the man now standing in front of him. He couldn’t help but smile: Flint - but _no_ , it was just James now - was wearing a soft-looking white shirt, something Silver had not seen him wear in a long time.

Eventually, Silver remembered that James had asked him a question and shook himself out of his wandering thoughts, “It was the same as all other raids. Some men fighting, others pleading for mercy. The crew seemed happy, though, and it was an easy target.”

James smiled back at his lover, coming closer to him to sit on the mattress next to Silver, “Why are you so exhausted, then? Is your leg troubling you again?”

Silver looked away, but his former captain had guessed right. Sure, it wasn’t an open wound anymore, but the effort he had put it through in the first few months after the initial injury had made it impossible to fully recover from it; somewhere in the far distance Silver swore he could hear Dr Howell say _I told you so_.

Silver startled when he felt a calloused hand touch him through his pants and almost protested, but James’ touch was so gentle, so he let himself relax into it.

“Let me take care of you, love” James whispered, scooting closer and twisting to get himself in a better position. He then proceeded to massage Silver’s thigh oh so gently, mindful of the amputation. 

When it was clear that the muscles had relaxed enough, he moved on to the other leg, giving it much the same treatment, and then did the same to both arms. James took his time with each limb, and when he was done with the front he made Silver roll onto his stomach so he could massage his back, too.

Silver fell asleep with his lover’s hands caressing his lower back, and only opened his eyes when he no longer felt James touching him. He shamelessly whined at having James’ hands leave him, but not a moment later the other man made him move on his side and pressed his chest against Silver’s back, effectively spooning him.

“This is nice,” Silver murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. He felt James smile where his face was pressed against his neck.

“Maybe you should come by more often, then,” James whispered in reply, an arm holding the smaller man tighter against his body.

“Maybe you should come with me to Bristol,” Silver said, twisting in his lover’s arms so he could look at him, “Madi misses you.”

James’ hands came up to cup Silver’s face, his thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, “Maybe I will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established modern SilverFlintMadi in which Silver and Flint are professors and Madi is a doctor, and Silver is made fun of for his cooking skills.

James could hear the music even before he opened the door, the funky type that he didn’t really understand but that his partner loved.

He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and left his luggage to the side in order to open the door, which he closed with his foot as soon as he was inside with all his bags.   
He then took his shoes off and hung his coat on the rack, careful not to make too much noise so he could surprise his boyfriend. James had been away for a month, holding a cycle of conferences in the States with Billy, and he’d missed home like crazy.

He stepped silently into the kitchen and had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh: John was dancing, his hips shimmying energetically to the rhythm of the music despite the still new prosthesis.   
John’s hands were deep into bread dough, his long curly hair were up into a loose bun, and James’ pleased eyes wandered from his rippling back muscles, clearly visible under the soft-looking shirt, to his exposed forearms where John had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

After some minutes spent watching the man knead the dough while dancing, James stepped closer to him and put his hands on John’s hips, making his partner jolt in surprise. John cursed quietly and turned around, a huge grin spreading on his face as soon as he noticed the ginger haired man holding him.

“You’re back!” John’s arms curled around James’ shoulders, his hands held carefully away so he wouldn’t dirty his clothes with flour.

“I’m back,” James nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. He’d missed the man, the easiness that came with being around him, and especially the affectionate touches that they shared with one another.

“Are you still trying to cook?” James peaked over John’s shoulder, his eyebrows rising skeptically when he saw the ball of dough.

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’m getting better at it. You can ask Madi when she comes home.” John pouted, turning around again to join James in looking at the dough, “It doesn’t look good, does it? I swear I followed every step in the damn book you gave me, it just doesn’t seem to work,” he sighed, sinking into his partner’s embrace.

James hummed, hooking his chin over the other man’s shoulder, “Maybe you need to check other recipes, too. Or you could always stop being so stubborn and accept mine and Madi’s help.”

John scoffed, like that was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard, and was just about to reply when they heard the door open and close again and quick steps coming into the room.

“James!” Madi’s excited voice made them turn and separate from each other, James promptly opening his arms to accept Madi’s hug. He kissed her forehead gently, a soft smile playing on his lips. She was still in her scrubs from work, her hair in a tight ponytail.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home today? I could’ve-” she stopped when she noticed the flour-covered countertop. James raised his eyebrows again, trying not to snort at her expression.

“I wanted to surprise you. I planned to take both of you out to dinner but if John has other plans…” he glanced over at his boyfriend, who in turn looked at the abandoned dough and shrugged.

“It’s not like I’m able to cook anything edible yet,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed with himself.

“Well, you did try to serve us raw pork the other month,” Madi and James both laughed at the memory, and their laughter only grew louder at John’s outraged _Hey!_

“Stop teaming up against me! I’m divorcing both of you!” He crossed his arms, a frown set on his face.

“John, we’re not married,” James replied with an amused tone, coming closer to him to press a kiss into his hairline.

“Well then marry me so I can divorce you for making fun of me.”

*****

“And that’s how he proposed?” Max laughed an hour later, when they were all sitting around a table at Eleanor’s restaurant. To be fair, James had planned to take his boyfriend and girlfriend out for a romantic dinner, but word that he’d returned had spread and all their friends had automatically invited themselves, too.

“Don’t blame him, he gets really protective of his ‘cooking’ skills,” Madi giggled, making quotation marks with her fingers. She immediately leaned over to kiss John’s cheek while the others laughed.

“I’d been planning on it for a while, it wasn’t supposed to go that way,” he muttered in response to Max, “The plan included candles and sunsets on a private beach and lots of se-”

“We get it!” Anne cut in, her eyes widening comically, “It was supposed to be disgustingly romantic, we get it.”

John smirked and leaned forward on the table, away from James’ arm that was resting on the back of his chair, “I did a lot of research for it, too.” He winked at Anne, who just rolled her eyes and turned the other way to join Jack and Charles’ conversation.

James, on his part, was looking around the table at his friends, a relaxed smile on his lips. He’d missed this more than anything: this mismatched group of people that had somehow ended up together, and now wouldn’t dream of leaving each other. Just a few years ago, James wouldn’t have thought he’d ever get to have this.

“Hey, where are you?” John whispered in his ear, only his eyes betraying how worried he was. He always made sure James wouldn’t get too lost in his head.

“I was just thinking how lucky I am,” James smiled, clearing his throat before continuing, his voice growing louder so the rest of the table could hear as well, “You all know where I come from, and I honestly never thought I could have this,” he gestured to all of them, “I didn’t think I could ever find such good friends and partners that loved me this much.”

His throat constricted and he couldn’t go on, but his friends were smiling and John scooted over with his chair to press himself closer to him, while Madi reached over to hold his hand, “We’re not going anywhere, James.”

*****

A year later, on their wedding day, James and Madi, much to John’s chagrin, recounted the tale of how they’d got engaged to a room full of laughing guests.

They had fortunately managed to convince John to actually get a catering company to deal with the food for their wedding – they’d told him it was because they wanted something more elaborate, but it was more like they feared he would poison the guests, since his skills still hadn’t got any better.

When the laughter died down, John stood up, James’ steadying hand finding his hip quickly, while Madi held the hand that wasn’t busy with a champagne flute.

“I’d like to say a few words, now that I’ve been properly shamed,” he smiled down at both his partners, “First of all, thank you all for being here, our special day wouldn’t be the same without you. Second, I think most of you know of the accident that took away my leg almost two years ago. That is actually how I met my beautiful wife, she was the surgeon that saved my life that night, and I couldn’t be more grateful, really.”

He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the reassuring pressure of his lovers’ touches, and then went on.

“James, here, on the other hand. We met on my first day as a professor at university, and he hasn’t left me ever since – go figure why.” Everyone laughed while he leaned down to press a kiss to James’ forehead, “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been lucky enough to find not just one but two people that support me and love me, and I couldn’t be happier, even if I did threaten to divorce them before I even proposed. So thank you, James and Madi, and thank you, everyone, for being here to witness and share our love.”

He sat back down while the guests broke into enthusiastic applause, although he wasn’t paying attention to any of that, because Madi and James – his wife and husband – had moved their chairs closer and were now both holding him tightly, whispering sweet nothings in his ears.

John let himself relax in their arms, smirking to himself at the thought that maybe being so awful in the kitchen had its perks, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern silverflint based on Luke Arnold's role in Lowdown.  
> Warning for brief reference to homophobia in sports.

John was standing under the shower spray, letting hot water pour down on him and soothe the sore muscles in his back. The last shift at the restaurant had been exhausting – having to plan the menu and impart instructions to the waiters and the other cooks - and he hadn’t got any sleep last night. Anxiety churned deep in his gut at the thought that in a matter of hours they had their big opening, and he would likely have to face it alone.

He sighed, reaching for a towel and wrapping it tight around his middle before stepping out of the shower. James was standing on the other side of the bathroom, trimming his beard and getting ready for an early training session with his soccer team, the Royal Lions. John took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the back of James’s head. He needed to ask this, he knew he did, although he could already guess what the answer would be.

“You should be at the restaurant tonight,” he said after clearing his throat, crossing the room to get to the other towels so he could rub one over his wet hair.

“Sure,” James agreed readily, setting the razor down. John turned to face him, eyeing him warily.

“It’s not just a simple dinner. It’s an opening, media will be there.” He hanged the towel back on the heater, despite is hair still being damp. He had to occupy himself in some way, the silence in the room suddenly heavy with tension. John tried to bite down a sigh, knowing that snapping back wouldn’t make the situation any better.

“So what’s it gonna be this time, huh? Traffic? Late training?” He found himself spit out against his better judgement, his voice full of barely contained resentment.

“We talked about this.” James sighed, turning to leave the bathroom. “I want to come out, but the contract is binding and I can’t lose that kind of money.”

“Oh, bullshit!” John followed him, crossing his arms on his still naked chest. “I know your contract is ending soon, you could get out of it if you wanted to!” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Listen, this is the most important night of my career, and I’d very much like for my partner to be there.”

James looked up at him, his fingers worrying at the shirt in his hands. He licked his lips, averting his eyes from John. “And my whole career would be at stake if I did this, you know it.” He finally put his shirt on, reaching down to get his bag.

John took a step forward into the room, his frown deepening with every word his partner uttered. “Well, so is your relationship in this moment!”

“That’s fine with me.” James spat over his shoulder, just before slamming the door shut.

John bit his lip, staring blankly at the floor for a few moments. He was so tired of this argument – it had been going on for weeks now, since their relationship had become more serious. He didn’t want to force James to come out if he didn’t want to, but sometimes it was just stressing, having to hide his love like that in order not to damage James’s career as a professional player.

He shook his head, going back in the bathroom to finish getting ready. They would figure this out, they always did.

*-*-*-*

That night, John slept alone for the first time in months. He tossed and turned, staring for minutes on end at the empty space on the other side of the bed. James had basically moved into his place, spending most of his time there almost every day, and it had been so easy to get used to the domesticity that John didn’t really know what to do when he was alone.

Later that day, as he was getting ready for work, he heard knocking. He fumbled with the buttons on his uniform jacket as he got to the door. On the other side stood James, a guilty smile on his face and flowers in his hands.

“’m sorry” he mumbled, waiting for John to move before he stepped into the apartment. He settled on the couch while John found a vase for the flowers.

“How’d the opening go?” James called.

“Fine.” John shrugged, sitting next to his partner, but keeping some space between them. James nodded, his gaze fixated on his fidgeting hands.

“Did you want to tell me something?” John raised one of his eyebrows. He still hadn’t got past their argument.

“Yes.” James nodded again, and swallowed before speaking up. “I want to come out. I contacted the Sun and they introduced me to one of their gay writers, so I could be more comfortable with him writing the article.”

John stared. There was no other word for it. He was frozen on the spot, James’s words ringing in his ears. “I’m sorry,” he started slowly, “Did you say you want to come out?”

“Yes. It’s the right time, my contract with the Lions is ending and there are negotiations open and I already wanted to leave the team – you know I can’t stand Low anymore – and I think I found a good option.”

John felt himself nod along with what James was saying, but his mind was still stuck on that little sentence. James was going to do this, he had finally found the courage to tell the world about himself. A grin spread slowly on John’s lips.

“- and their captain is Charles Vane,” James was saying, “he’s a very good player, they tell me he’s more reasonable now than he was once, too, and the Rangers have other players that are out already so- John? Are you alright?”

He licked his lips and nodded, still grinning like an idiot even though he could feel his eyes watering. “You’re really doing this.”

James’s eyes softened, and he reached to take his partner’s hand in his. “I am. I love you, and I don’t want to hide who I am anymore. I don’t want to hide you - us.”

John brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of James’s hand, then moved swiftly to climb in James’s lap so he could kiss him properly.

If he was late to work that night, his hair dishevelled and his jacket askew, nobody really needed to know why.

*-*-*-*

Two days later, John took a day off from work so he could follow the press conference in person. James introduced him to the journalist that was writing his column, Thomas, and he seemed like someone who would write a good and insightful piece. A few minutes of conversation with him actually showed that they had a mutual friend – Miranda, the owner of the restaurant, was Thomas’ best friend and flatmate.

As he made his way to the bar for a drink, John could feel himself shaking with nerves. A quick look at James on the other side of the room proved that his partner was feeling the exact same way – understandably so. It was just a question of minutes before the conference began, and he could feel his throat constrict with anxiety.

He wasn’t allowed to enter the room like the journalists, so he sat with the assistants outside, a monitor set up for them to follow the interview in real time. As minutes went by, John found himself checking his watch almost maniacally, until finally James stepped on the little stage that had been set for him and sat down in front of the microphones.

The host introduced him and told the press why they were there, and then gestured for James to go on with his announcement. John gripped his knees tightly, his knuckles going white as he held his breath. Seconds ticked by and James still hadn’t uttered a word. John went cold with realization – he wasn’t going to follow through with this.

He clenched his jaw as he listened to his partner speak about his contract ending, about him changing teams as soon as the season was over, about the amazing offer he’d got from the Rangers. Not a word was spoken about coming out, or about the two of them. John stood up, his legs shaking and almost giving out under him. He turned his back to the screen, dread pooling in his belly as he thought of what that would mean for them.

“- Oh, and one more thing,” James was saying in the other room, his voice loud and clear. John perked up, but didn’t face the screen again. “I’m gay. I’m gay and I’m leaving the Royal Lions to play with the Rangers. You can read about the gay part on tomorrow’s issue of The Sun.”

John felt all the air whoosh out of him. He stood frozen, very much like he had a few days ago. Only now it wasn’t anger bubbling inside of him – it was pride. Pure and utter pride at the courage James had shown in front of the room, despite his doubts, despite his career possibly being in jeopardy.

John didn’t wait for the green light from the assistant, he shoved the door to conference room open and forced his way through the clapping crowd of journalists. He stopped right in front of the stage, where James was just coming down the few steps.

They caught sight of each other and John grinned – a matching expression to the one James was wearing. Trying to contain his excitement, John took a couple of steps forward so they were standing close, and he cupped his partner’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, like it was a secret between the two of them. “I love you, I’m so proud of you, James.”

He felt James’s arms snake around his waist, bringing them together tightly. “I love you, too,” he said softly, before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips, mindless of all the people watching them, finally free and proud to show his love to the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver finally reveals his backstory to Flint. Set more or less during the 409 flashbacks.  
> Warning for Silver/OMC.  
> Based on Ana Marìa Matute's Paraìso Inhabitado.

“James?”

Silver knocked gently on the door to the captain’s hut, leaning heavily on his crutch, his back stiff and bowed after the hard work they had put into the training a few hours earlier.

Flint had just finished bathing and was putting is clothes back on. He beckoned Silver in with a nod, a playful smile on his lips.

“Haven’t you had enough for today?”

Silver huffed a laugh, sitting on Flint’s cot with a tired sigh. He casted the crutch aside - his leg had been too irritated even after his bath to put the peg on, so crutch it was for today - and leaned back to rest his head against the hut’s wooden wall.

“I was actually hoping we could talk.”

Flint’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything. He simply sat beside Silver, gesturing for him to start on the conversation.

“I think I’m ready for you to know my story,” Silver whispered, his eyes locked on the hut’s ceiling, like he was avoiding looking at Flint for as long as he could. James shifted closer to him, his right hand closing around Silver’s left one in a silent encouragement.

“When you told me about Thomas,” Silver started, his voice so low that Flint had to strain to hear it, “Did you wonder why I had no other reaction to it than expressing my apologies?”

James frowned, recounting back to the night they had spent around the fire after burying the cache. It had been a strange reaction, to be sure, but the fact that Silver had found a way to weave himself into that narrative had distracted him.

He told him that much, and Silver nodded a little, like he was considering how best to proceed.

“I admit I wanted to find a way to become indispensable to you. But that wasn’t all of it. You told me you think my story - what I told you and the men up until now - wasn’t true. And you’re right. It isn’t. Not all of it, at least.” He stopped once again, seemingly to collect his thoughts.

“I wasn’t born in Whitechapel. My family was Spanish, from Madrid. I lived there until I was ten. I wasn’t an orphan, either. Or, well, I was only an orphan in the sense that neither of my parents cared for me. My mother had others to think about, and I was the smallest and easiest to forget in the house. I loved my father, almost worshipped him, until one day, when he was heading out for a hunting trip, he promised that he would come back to me. He never did. My mother died when I was twelve, during the war, after we had to get away from the city. I followed an aunt to England, but once there she left me at St John’s home - that part is true, I spent three years there.”

At this point, Silver finally looked over at Flint, who was staring at him, eyes wide like he was trying to take in as much information as he could. John moved closer, his fingers intertwining with James’s. He soldiered on with his story.

“Before the war, we lived in one of the good neighbourhoods. I met Gavriil there. He was a year older than me and he came from far away - from Russia. He introduced himself as Gavi, because his name was difficult for anyone in Spain to pronounce. For almost a year he was my only friend. We both loved inventing stories about imaginary worlds filled with fairies and dragons - something that adults didn’t really understand. We called them the _Others_ or the _Giants_. I felt I only belonged when I was with him, trading tales that we had heard from the servants caring for us.”

Silver took some deep, steadying breaths, and felt Flint’s hand squeezing his, though the captain kept silent.

“Nobody really cared about how close we’d grown, we were still children and _love_ didn’t mean anything, it was just a word. That was what they were trying to tell us, at least. I didn’t believe them. Gavi didn’t either.” Silver smiled, glancing at Flint before continuing. “When months passed and we were still attached to the hip, the _Others_ deemed that it had been enough, and started trying to divide us.

“I’ll make it short and say that they didn’t have to wait long. He fell ill - meningitis, they said. There was nothing they could do to save him, he died shortly after. But before he died, they let me see him, and he told me, looking me straight in the eye, that he would find me again. I waited for him, for years.” Silver heard Flint take in a sharp breath.

“Needless say I didn’t find him, because people don’t come back from the dead. But I looked for him in every person I met, I wouldn’t resign myself. Until-” He shifted so he could face his captain, a sad smile playing on his lips. He noticed that Flint was holding his breath, so he finished the sentence in a murmur “- Until I found you. You- you’re nothing like him and yet you seem so similar, so familiar somehow.”

Silver tightened his grip on Flint’s hand then, glancing down at their joined hands, lost in his thoughts. James felt like there was still a part of the story left to tell, but he didn’t want to press the other man into revealing it. As he sat there, staring at his quartermaster, he noticed how young he looked, how small he really was when he wasn’t trying to maintain a regal posture to better fit in his newly acquired role.

After some minutes spent in silence, Silver spoke up again. “There was a particular story we liked, one of the few that had actually been written down. It was called the _Raven King_ , but I can’t quite recall what it was about, only that we never got to the end. After – I was never able to pick it up again.”

Silver fell silent again, his eyes blinking rapidly like he was trying to will away the tears. Flint moved as if to hold him, but before he could put an arm around him, Silver shifted back, an ashamed look on his face as he dried his eyes with his shirt. He let out a self deprecating little laugh, his fingers fidgeting with one of his many rings.

“So now you know my story.” He then added, almost as an after-thought, “I’m not that different from you.”

His head hung so low that Flint couldn’t see if he was crying or just staring sadly at his hands, but he moved in again to hold him, and when Silver struggled he almost growled, “Just let me hug you, for fuck’s sake.”

Silver went limp in his arms, letting the captain arrange their bodies so they were lying on their sides on the cot. For a long time, neither of them said a word. At some point, Silver turned so he could bury his face in Flint’s neck, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“Better?” Flint asked under his breath. Silver still had to open his mouth, which was starting to worry Flint, but he hummed contently from where he was trying to burrow himself deeper between the cot and Flint’s body.

“John?” Flint shifted so he could push Silver’s hair out of his face, his fingers fitting under the man’s chin so he could look into those deep blue eyes, still shining with unshed tears. Once again, Flint found himself remembering how young Silver really was.

“Please don’t think I’m saying this out of pity,” Flint went on, his rough hands cupping Silver’s face, “I’m sorry this happened to you, but I am endlessly thankful you decided to share this with me.”

He said so in the softest tone Silver had ever heard, and he felt his eyes fill with tears again. This was precisely why he had always kept his story to himself – he didn’t want people to think he should be treated like something fragile. He wasn’t _weak_. When he looked up at Flint, though, the captain was smiling, his eyes gentle and full of love.

“I don’t say this because I think what you told me makes you something less than what I already knew you as. I’m telling you this because I recognize how much you must trust me to open up to me. And I want you to know that that trust is mutual. That _love_ is mutual, John.”

Flint cradled him in his arms, and Silver understood that he wasn’t expecting anything in return for his words. As he relaxed back against James’s body, Gavi’s words came back to him.

“ _I will find you, I will come back to you_.”

And he did. He did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverflint, with a touch of silverflintmadi. "Don't die on me- Please."  
> Prompt 15 from [this](http://flintsjohn.tumblr.com/post/161892726420/nearly-200-writing-prompts-feel-free-to-reblog) list for [Sjuul](http://undiscovereduniverse.tumblr.com/).

The noise from the rifles was just dying down when Silver heard a blood-curling scream. He whipped his head around to find Madi and Dooley hunched over a too familiar body. His breath caught in his throat as he hurriedly made his way over to where they were lying Flint down, already pressing some cloth to the bullet wound in his side.

“No no no no” Silver murmured, casting the crutch aside as he fell to his knees, everyone else stepping back to allow him to get closer to the captain. Silver took over Dooley’s hands in pressing the cloth to Flint’s side, trying not to pay too much attention at how much blood he’d already lost.

“James. James, please look at me,” he breathed, his free hand coming up to cup Flint’s head just as the captain coughed, spitting blood. His eyes were already clouding as he looked at the quartermaster.

“You never called me that,” Flint said, and he smiled, despite his voice being already faint with exhaustion. He kept blinking rapidly, like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Fuck that. Stay awake, you hear me? Focus on me, the doctor will be here soon.” Silver felt his voice go high with panic as he distantly heard people shuffling behind him. The battle was over, they had won, but no one seemed to care: as Silver raised his head to check if they had found a doctor, he noticed that most of the small army they had managed to gather was staring his way, most specifically at Flint in his arms.

Silver swallowed, trying to make Flint focus on him again as he saw his eyes slip closed for a second too long.

“James! Don’t you dare – Don’t die on me. Do you hear me? Don’t leave me.” Silver knew he was screaming, shaking Flint’s shoulder just so he would open his eyes again, just so he could look into those deep green orbs one more time, just one more-

“John.” Madi’s voice came faintly from behind him, and she pressed a hand to his shoulder. He was shaking his head, still gripping Flint tightly. “ _John_ , you have to let them take him.”

In the end, it took three people to pry Silver from Flint, and he was still screaming at the captain to _please, please, don’t die_ when members from the crew took him inside the governor’s mansion, newly conquered.

Silver waited anxiously for three hours, pacing the small square outside the house with Madi wringing her hands nervously at his side. She hadn’t tried to tell him that it would be alright, knowing that in that moment no word would have kept him from worrying about Flint.

As soon as he heard steps coming out from the governor’s house, Silver snapped up his head, almost expecting someone to tell him that they had done everything they could, but that the captain was gone. But as Dooley came closer, the mask of worry on his face dissipated into a tired smile.

“They managed to close the wound. He’s resting.”

Silver didn’t feel much guilt as he pushed Dooley to the side, all but running into the house with Madi on his heels. The men inside didn’t look too startled to see them barging in, they all simply pointed to the stairs. Silver climbed the flight in no time, completely mindless of his own injuries – if it hadn’t been for Madi at his side, he would’ve probably brained himself in his haste to get to the bedroom where Flint was resting.

He finally let himself collapse next to Flint’s bedside, his hand already reaching for the captain’s before he had even sat. Flint’s eyes were closed, but he seemed to have regained some of his colour, and his chest was regularly moving with deep breaths.

Suddenly, as if the events of the day had caught up to him all at once, Silver felt himself fall apart. He buried his face in the covers, his body wracked with relieved sobs as he clutched Flint’s hand. He was vaguely aware of Madi moving around the room, seemingly unable to sit still like he was.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but day had given way to night outside, and Madi had lit some candles and sat down at Silver’s side when Flint finally stirred. After they’d given him some water and tended to his wound like the doctor had instructed, it seemed like there wasn’t much left to do but talk things out.

Madi waved aside Flint’s demands of knowing how their war was going to proceed, saying he was still too weak to think about any new plans. Flint frowned deeply but he begrudgingly accepted, settling back into the cushions with a heavy sigh. They all stayed quiet for awhile, Silver’s hand still loosely holding Flint’s, before the captain spoke up.

“You called me by my first name,” he said, surprise colouring his tone as he looked at Silver. Was he- was that a blush on the quartermaster cheeks?

“Yeah, well. You were dying. I can’t be held responsible for anything I said in that moment,” Silver grumbled, sweeping his thumb over the back of Flint’s hand.

“Can you now?” Flint asked, his expression turning unreadable yet again.

“I think I can.” Silver dragged his free hand across his face, rubbing his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“So if I ask you why you were so worried about me – will you answer honestly?”

Silver sat in silence for some long minutes, his eyes gazing at everything in the room except for Flint and their joined hands. More than once, it looked like he was going to say something, his lips parting with words that caught in his throat. Eventually, he set his eyes on Madi, who smiled kindly at him, nodding in encouragement.

“Don’t you know?” Silver asked, in a last attempt not to utter the words, but Flint stared at him, unimpressed.

“Well, I – You’re my captain.” Silver swallowed, trying not to look at the two people in the room as he sped through the words, “And I care about the war and a victory seemed impossible without you there to guide us, but that’s not all there is. The war, the crew, the governor, England – they can all burn in hell if one of you is taken from me.”

Silver’s chest heaved painfully, and he realized that despite not having said the actual words Flint was probably expecting to hear, he had revealed more of himself than he intended to. He looked up again only when he felt Madi shift closer so she could clasp her hand above theirs. It felt like the piece they were all waiting for to complete the puzzle had slipped into place; it felt final, as if as long as their hands remained joined there was nothing that could stop them, or tear them apart. Maybe not even death.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic silverflinthamilton. "Shut up, I am a delight!"  
> Prompt 46 from [this](http://flintsjohn.tumblr.com/post/159415230435/send-me-two-characters-or-more-and-a-prompt-and) list for anon.

The parrot had been Silver’s idea, of course. Now, for some reason, he was trying to teach it French, even though he didn’t know the language himself.

“That animal doesn’t speak, Silver,” Flint muttered, trying to focus on his book, although Silver’s poorly pronounced words were truly distracting, even more than Thomas’ presence at his side.

“Well, I’m trying to teach it!” John opened his arms wide and let them drop to his sides, clearly frustrated with the bird.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t learn to talk as much as you do,” Flint grumbled, prompting a snort from Thomas.

Silver gasped. “Shut up, I am a delight!” When James looked up at Silver, he saw him outright pouting, which caused him to smirk.

“Sure you are, when you are quiet.” Thomas was pressing a hand to his lips to suppress a laugh while Silver frowned and crossed his arms on his chest.

Flint went back to his book, succeeding in reading all of two lines before Silver snatched the book out of his hands, passing it to Thomas with a tiny smirk before he climbed on James’s lap.

“Silver.” Flint narrowed his eyes, settling his hands on John’s hips anyway.

“ _Captain_ ,” Silver replied, and then he fucking winked, and Flint was lost in his eyes, only hearing Thomas’ laugh like it came from far way.

He swallowed thickly, but quickly regained his control and muttered, “You’re still a pain in the ass.”

Thomas choked on his tea.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Silverflint set during the forest scene in ep 4x10. “My nightmares are usually about losing you.”  
> Prompt 25 from [this](http://flintsjohn.tumblr.com/post/159415230435/send-me-two-characters-or-more-and-a-prompt-and) list for anon.

“I will not leave here wondering if tomorrow is the day your nightmare finally takes her away for good.”

Flint felt himself nod at Silver’s words. They made sense. Of course they made sense. Silver had proved up until that moment that he didn’t care about the war anymore, not if it meant having to sacrifice Madi for it.

And he understood that. _God_ , did he understand that. He had lived for ten years in that nightmare, and it had only got worse in the past months, but it had also changed, to the point where his worst dreams weren’t about Miranda’s ghost anymore. No, his dreams weren’t full of dead people, now. They were crowded by people that were still very much alive. He just didn’t know how he could _keep_ them that way for much longer.

“My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he said, softly, letting the words linger in the thick air of the forest. He hadn’t meant to say that, not really, but he couldn’t take the words back now, so he just watched them sink into Silver.

The pistol trembled into Silver’s hand, a single sob escaping the man’s lips before he could rein himself in. Tears had welled up in his eyes, and Flint couldn’t bear seeing him like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, either. It looked like Silver was having a fight with himself, too, the hand holding the gun raising and lowering by mere inches every now and then.

“You can’t say that,” he murmured eventually, his voice full of barely restrained anger, his hand finally closing with more intent around the pistol.

“But it’s true.” Flint replied, the ghost of a sad smile appearing on his lips. “If this is to end this way, I want you to know.”

“This is not what I wanted.” Silver raised the gun, but Flint could see that his words had affected him more than anything he’d said before.

 _I love you_. He wanted to say, to scream at him, but he feared that it would only make things worse. So he swallowed the words. Spoke about narratives and them being monsters in other people’s stories.

 _I love you_. He thought as he stood up and righted himself in front of Silver, in front of the gun pointed at him.

 _I love you_. He thought as Silver said that he would wait for him to accept the outcome that he had decided for both of them.

 _I love you_. He thought as Silver’s grip tightened around the pistol.

“ _I love you_ ,” he said as he took a step forward. And another. And another, until his chest was pressed right against the barrel of the gun.

“ _I love you_.” He repeated, louder, so he was sure Silver could hear the words. And he knew, in that moment he _knew_ , he would have repeated them again and again until he could be certain that Silver believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ [flintjohn](flintsjohn.tumblr.com)


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